


Angela Found

by Ishyko



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: DID I MENTION THIS IS AU AND NOT EVEN FANON HEADCANON, F/M, Not Happy, Pacific Rim!AU, author not Australian, future m/m, part of bigger story and AU, time passage & events & ages don't match movie, working on happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishyko/pseuds/Ishyko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't touch it if it's not yours. It causes all sorts of heartache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Promise

**Author's Note:**

> This was a series of snippets that didn't read well as one story. So I fleshed them out with filler. I'm going to release as chapters which I've never done and can't stand. I'm going to see if this motivates me more to write faster though. 
> 
> THIS IS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. Not fanon. Not even headcanon. Not even my headcanon. I wanted to play around in setting up a bigger AU world and in finding justifications for behaviors that were canon/fanon/headcanon I ended up seriously modifying things to see how it would alter past, immediate, and far reaching dynamics.
> 
> For me, I found that turning Angela into an American who is 6 years older than Herc kept much of the future angst/dynamic in the Hansen/Pentecost families but also opened it up to different interpretations.
> 
> So at one point the ages will be: Angela is 27, Herc is 21. Stacker is 22. Scott is 19.
> 
> Angela has a Midwestern flat accent. This means she sounds like an American news anchor. People pay money to lose their accents and sound like they have this "non-accent". xD
> 
> Can be read as stand alone.  
> Not beta'd. Sorry.  
> My grammar and tenses completely suck. I am all over the place.

 

** Hong Kong Shatterdome – Post Sydney ‘Dome Closing – Three days after Hansen arrival **

 

By this point in the war many of the people left working in the Hong Kong Shatterdome were the best of the best the former PPDC had to offer. So many others had decided they would rather spend the end of days with their families or living it up rather than following strict protocol even if it guaranteed them a hot meal and a safe place to sleep.

 

Thus LOCCENT’s efficiency was at 100% plus. Not only was everything in its place with shift changes running at peak capacity but needs and errands were anticipated.

 

Which was how a stack of folders and a keyring of flashdrives in a satchel marked “eyes only” for the Marshal from the Sydney Shatterdome ended up on the Marshal’s desk.

 

Without warning.

 

A satchel that was hand delivered to Stacker Pentecost by an incredibly efficient clerk who didn’t understand that an outbox on Tendo Choi’s desk wasn’t really intended for anyone other than Tendo Choi.

 

**

 

Stacker Pentecost popped in the flash drive and began to listen to old messages that had been left on RAAF Base Richmond’s various recording lines. Richmond was the designated military home base from the day of the second kaiju attack and later the Sydney Shatterdome had grown from those people.

 

The recordings of the day Scissure attacked had never been listened to as the servers had gone down that evening. In the aftermath they were allocated as item 15 on the ever growing list of things to be handled _right_ now. With each day the recordings dropped further until ten days later no one even recognized what it was for and mislabeled the equipment and shunted it to storage.

 

The information and tech had been transferred blindly from Richmond to the ‘dome. No one in the Sydney Shatterdome bothered to correct the oversight during the move and it had only been discovered by a highly efficient and thorough tech during the shutdown of the ‘dome. Now it was being sent on in case there was some important information contained within.

 

Stacker was on the third message when his adrenaline spiked and his knees buckled. He dropped to the floor, crashing hard on his knees as if the full weight of the years’ long war had finally taken a toll on him.

 

The message.

 

That _message…_

 

He gasped and choked. Tears formed. He squeezed his eyes tightly and they rolled down his face.

 

Angela Hansen.

 

 

 _Oh_. Angela Hansen was talking to him right now.

 

And it was ten years too late.

Angela’s voice, that American Midwestern, flat non-accent ( ** _I_** _don’t talk funny._ _I can’t help it that you oppressors and descendants of convicts all talk funny. You use it to reel in unwary stupid Americans who think it’s all sexy. And Scott had grinned at Herc and said, “It worked on you.” Angela had snarked, “To my everlasting shame_.”), as she had insisted on calling it. She had called the RAAF pilots’ emergency line for Herc’s squadron and left the message. That was what it had been created for once the Kaiju started attacking. A way to help pilots find their families, to get messages easier…

 

Her words were strong, her thoughts were clear but her voice was fading in and out. He knew that tone. It was the sound of someone with a fatal injury. He could hear the sirens and crumbling buildings in the background but they were faint. She must have had the phone close to her because her breaths were harsh. Occasionally hitching and rather wet sounding. Sometimes she would pause and a wounded sound would escape but she kept going.

Angela simply kept talking.

 

**_Stacker Pentecost, those are my boys I’m leave- leaving in your care. They’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, that I’ve ever loved. You know Herc. Soldier first, family second. He can’t do that with Charlie. I don’t give a shit that the whole damn planet may go to war. Please keep them close. Please keep them safe._ **

**_And that goes for Scotty too. I don’t know what happened between the three of you last month but whatever it is it’s stupid and not worth it. You’ve all been friends for too long. You need each other. You and Herc are older and Scotty’s a stupid kid. Instead of bein’ all up and proud about it and getting in a dick measuring contest and thinking this is what it means to be a man, that your fucking pride – Christ, Stacks. Being a man also means keeping your mouth shut. It means actually hearing what people say. And acknowledging you don’t know everything._ **

**_Ethics and principal is a good and great thing. But so is teaching and guiding a stupid boy when he’s made a mistake and was raised without a proper male role model._ **

**_You can be that Stacks._ **

**_I know you’ve worked hard to be that._ **

**_Scotty’s never going to listen to Herc but…you could be that person for him. You could help Herc in this._ **

**_You owe me, Stacks. You gave me your word._ **

She paused and when she spoke next her voice took a tone he’d hever heard from her. He shuddered to hear this woman he always associated with sharp humor, piercing emotional intelligence, and so steady nothing shook her speaking to him in a teary, pleading voice.

 

Rivers don’t suddenly change course. Mountains don’t rapidly shift. Until they have to.

 

And Angela shouldn’t speak to him like this. But she needed to.

**_Please. I love my boys so much. I don’t want to leave them. I want to see Charlie get his first kiss, grow up so tall, so strong like his dad, fall in love, get married…I wanted to share all that with Herc and he was going to teach me how to ride one of those damn motorcycles and we’d complain how we didn’t like Charlie’s fiancé and then later we’d play with grandchildren –_ **

**_I wanted to help Scotty because he’s not a bad person. But Hansens will never ask for help. And now everything…everything has all gone to hell and I can’t FIX it anymore. I can’t help my family Stacks. The one thing I could ever do right and now I can’t do it anymore. I mean, what was the fucking point of me even being here if I couldn’t help anybody? How can I tell Scotty he’ll turn out good? How can I help Herc when he feels so deeply and hurts so much he can’t even speak?_ **

**_Who’s going to love Charlie as much as his mom? Who’s going to tell him no shoes on the bed, that haircut is awful, being a redhead is wonderful, his freckles will fascinate people, his dimples are killer, that the three men in his life that he worship have bad ideas? That he doesn’t have to do everything they say? How will he know you’re teasing him?_ **

**_Who will hold him when he gets his heart broken? Who’s going to know how much he loves blueberry pancakes and that he craves touch even though his temper is really awful and his sarcasm makes me want to scream? Who will love my Charlie when he’s scared?_ **

Angela choked, coughed like she was gagging and vomiting, and let out a loud, long scream of pain. Whether it was from the coughing fit or all she was feeling…

 

Stacker wanted to scream with her.

 

Her voice sounded hoarse. Her humor made an appearance. All for him. Always thinking of others.

**_Excuse me for that. I don’t know why blood can’t come in cherry flavor. It’s disgusting. Nasty copper taste…._ **

**_…fuck me…that…really hurts. I’m sorry if I scared you. Scared the shit out of me too._ **

**_Stacks…my boys are yours now. You promised me. Please nudge them, steer them, guide them, smack ‘em in the ass when they need it. I know you love them too._ **

There was a pause, a creaking of metal, another sharp cry from her and then a sigh.

 

**_Whoa…that’s…probably not goo-d. Thass alotta blood…_ **

 

Stacker tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. He could hear Angela’s breathing becoming more rapid and shallow. The destruction sounded closer. She coughed and then whimpered from the pain. When she spoke again her voice was soft, musing. Two friends having a chat.

**_Do you think Herc reached Charlie? He had to, right? Herc did, of course. He’s never failed. Never. Tell him that for me, please._ **

**_Hmmm…Heroic Hercules. He hates that. Make sure to call him that too._ **

**_He did right to get Charlie. He’s a hero for getting Charlie. Our baby._ **

**_My beautiful boy Charlie…_ **

**_…so lucky to be his mom…Charlie’s mommy…_ **

Angela’s voice had drifted off as if she was lost in a memory. The pause was shorter this time. When she spoke for the last time he could hear the smile and fondness in her voice.

**_Thank you, Stacks. You’re the best family friend, the best friend, I could ever have._ **

**_I love Herc…so very, very much._ **

**_Now it’s you – it’s your – I love him._ **

**_But I’m happy he won’t be alone._ **

**_You and Herc, you be there for each other._ **

**_And both of you be there for Scott._ **

**_But most of all be there for my Charlie._ **

**_Love you…_ **

**_…all._ **

**_Prom-_ **

**_-ised._ **

**_-me_ **

**_Stac-_ **

There was the faint sound of some wet shallow breaths and then nothing but silence.

 

Silence from Angela.

 

In the distance a sudden rumbling, and then a horrible indescribable sound to cut off the roar of Scissure and the phone went dead.

Stacker found he was trembling.

 

He tried to gasp for air but his throat felt closed up.

 

The pain of his sister’s death, of the day he recognized Tamsin would really die, were awful. Horrific.

 

But this.

 

Oh…Angela.

 

He’d broken _the_ _promise_. So many promises.

 

He had failed every single one of the Hansens.

 

He’d sacrificed them all.

 

He had looked each in the eye over and over again through the years and _taken_ as his right because there were bigger things…

 

…and forgotten what he had sworn to her that night on the beach. Sworn with all the fervent heartache, sincerity, and intensity that only a 22 year year old soldier who’s seen death can manage. A soldier who's still an egotistical boy who soars faster than the speed of sound.

 

He’d needed Angela so much and the promise was easily made. He could honor that. He could do that for her.

 

Now at the eleventh hour the voice of a ghost came back…

 

…and told him that in working to save the world he hadn’t really saved anything at all.

 

He played it again.

 

And again.

 

And…


	2. The Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely and utterly without a beta. Again. Because I wanted this posted as it was taking too long.  
> Sorry.
> 
> I'm not from Australia nor do I know anything about the air force or RAAF. So I made things up (squadrons, officer's club on Richmond Base, how pilots in RAAF socialize because how would I know, age of pilots...)
> 
> AWOL means Absent With Out Leave. This is a very, very bad thing.
> 
> My Scott is a decent sort. Mostly. Yes. Hmm. Well... You have been warned.
> 
> Please see Chapter 1 notes for main/massive AU changes of characters.

**SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – COAST – FOUR DAYS AFTER HANSEN DEPARTURE POST MUTAVORE**

Scott Hansen sat on the couch (by day, bed by night) in the great room and took a bite of his sandwich. The small television across from him was turned low and was still reporting on the attack a few days earlier and the recovery efforts.

He knew all about the recovery efforts first hand. It wasn’t hard to slide in with a team of former airmen and emergency crews who didn’t give a good goddamn about the past but only cared that you were an able body willing to pitch in and help with rescue efforts.

However once the civilian crews knew he could pilot a helicopter he was immediately transferred to evac emergency victims to hospitals in nearby towns. Pilots were scarce. 

Pilots on military helos even more so. And those choppers were what they had in abundance.

For the last few days he was given a bit of a pass. The disaster was too big to care about what had gone on before. Especially since the reasons why he no longer piloted a jaeger were varied and ranged from something simple like a medical injury up to something so heinous it couldn’t even be discussed.

Besides, he was no longer that handsome, charismatic jaeger pilot who could charm anyone, woman or man, into doing anything he wanted…and then thanking him for the privilege. That Scott Hansen was all swagger and full of shit. The world owed him their thanks and he was happy to run his mouth and revel in it. 

This Scott Hansen was all business, rarely spoke, didn’t smile but did his job. The only time he could bring himself to anything remotely resembling a bit of animation was trying to keep a patient calm or reassure a child. 

Other than that he kept to himself and when the day was over he simply left.

He had been told to take the rest of today off after having worked for 18 hours straight. His big plans were to finish the sandwich, check some email to see if he’d received the update yet, and then pass out on his “bed” for the “night” even though it was three in the afternoon.

When his cell phone rang he simply stared at it.

It never rang.

Well, not quite true. But it was so infrequent that it wasn’t uncommon for months to go by without an incoming call. He had a phone for outgoing purposes.

He answered it with a growl. “Yeah?”

There was silence but Scott could hear a man breathing.

“Listen arsehole, I don’t know how-“

“-Scott,” the man interrupted, saying his name in a low, choked off way. “Scotty.”

Scott felt himself grow cold and numb as if the blood had drained completely from him before the adrenaline kicked in. “Charlie?” he whispered. “Is it Charlie? Something happen? He looked okay on the tv; running his mouth-“ Scott’s words rushed together as he tried to recall if his nephew had looked injured in the post-fight interview.

Herc had to call Scott’s name a few times to get him to focus. “Charlie - Chuck’s fine. I’m…not calling about Chuck.”

“Okay.” 

Scott waited silently, patiently for once, wondering what could possibly have prompted his big brother to call him. They hadn’t spoken since the day he left the PPDC. 

It hadn’t been the last time Scott had seen him though.

The last time had been eight days after Knifehead. 

**

Scott sat on one side of the glass, posture tired and Herc on the other sitting ramrod straight. It had been months since they had drifted and yet one look into each other’s bloodshot eyes and the ghost drift started pulling at him all over again.

The sense of slotting back together was a relief. The feeling of coming home, the warmth and security that went with it; Scott took a deep breath and closed his eyes, centering himself. 

Herc stared over Scott’s left shoulder until he was ready to glance at Scott again.

Neither was ready to forgive the other. There was so much anger and bitterness, hurt and betrayal.

Only the Beckets - Those bright, golden, American pilots…

Buncha poster boys. Fuckin’ puppies. The younger one still all bright-eyed with wonder.

 _That could have been us,_ Herc’s eyes seemed to say. _How could we have lived without the other?_

 _That could still be you. And now Charlie,_ Scott’s expression seemed to plead.

Herc’s head jerked once in acknowledgement. He was staring down at his fingers and Scott hated it. Hated seeing his big brother look so unsure.

Because it was all his fault. Scott was the failure here, not Herc. Herc never failed. Herc always bailed him out, cleaned up his messes, took care of him. Like Yancy did for Raleigh. Only Raleigh had a better head on his shoulders and wasn’t such a fuck up.

So here they were. Herc free to go and Scott to stay behind, safely locked away for everyone’s peace of mind.

And Herc would clean up after him, do his duty, and now Charlie, his own goddamn 16 year old nephew was going to be picking up the slack and going forward when his uncle couldn’t. Charlie would never be the failure that his Uncle Scott was. 

Charlie shouldn’t be a jaeger pilot. That’s not how it’s supposed to be!

Herc had let out a harsh breath and stared hard at Scott. _Yeah. Well that’s my cross to bear. You don’t have any part in it. Not anymore._

Scott slammed down hard on the ghost drift and cut it off. He stood up and turned his back. Herc flinched in reaction to the shutdown but then he immediately left the room.

**

So here he was, present day, listening to Herc breathing for the first time since that day and waiting for him to say something.

“I can’t talk to you over the goddamn phone.” Herc’s words were rushed. “I’m calling you back on vid.”

The call disconnected and Scott slowly placed the cell phone back on the table. He watched it, wondering if maybe he’d dreamed the whole thing when his laptop beeped insistently at him.

Incoming Call. Private. The words blinked in time with the sounds on his display.

Suddenly Scott felt like throwing up. He didn’t want to answer this call. He had no desire to know what news could have prompted his immovable brother to reach out to him and then transfer to vid. Herc said it wasn’t Charlie (but what if it was?) and they were already at the end of the world.

Scott knew there was no reconciling between the two of them.

He ran a hand over his head and tapped the ‘enter’ key to answer the call.

Fuck.

What the hell had happened in four days to cause Herc to look so…broken? His eyes looked positively haunted. 

He looked…lost.

And that terrified Scott. He’d seen it one other time but Scott had been there to help. 

Who was helping him now?

Scott couldn’t breathe. His chest felt tight. Herc was hurting so bad he’d called him.

“It is Charlie, isn’t it,” Scott said softly.

Herc shook his head. “No, it’s…I…don’t know how to say –“

“Herc!” Scott called sharply. Usually that brought him around.

His brother sighed and ran a trembling hand over his head, same habit, but with the opposite hand. “Fuck, I thought this would be easier,” he began in a shaky voice. “Something…happened…”

“Goddammit Lee, stop lying to me about Charlie!”

“Fuck off Scotty, I’m not lying about the little shit!”

“Don’t you call my nephew a little shit!”

“He is a little shit! We always called him a little shit! You’re the fucker who gave him a jersey with the name “Little Shit” on the back when he was 11 so don’t you fucking tell me what I can and can’t call my son!”

There was a brief pause as they stared at each other still caught up in their anger and for a moment it could have teetered into laughter but Herc turned his head to the side and let out a loud sigh.

Scott did the same. God his chest ached. For a brief few seconds it was like the years had dropped away and they were Herc and Scott, brothers forever, Hansens against the world, I can talk shit about my family but no one else can.

“Okay,” Scott said softly. “Okay. Charlie’s not hurt.”

Herc slumped back in his chair and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Christ. I can’t. I can’t do this,” he mumbled to himself and then abruptly turned to look off to his right.

Scott heard a deep voice but the words were unclear. Herc opened his mouth to protest but then simply gave a tired nod and stood up and left the room.

Stacker Pentecost dropped into Herc’s seat and faced the monitor.

“Scott.”

“Stacker,” Scott greeted cautiously. Their last encounter had been brutal and ugly.

“I have a request,” Stacker stated quietly.

Scott arched an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing. Stacker continued.

“I need you to come to the ‘dome here in Hong Kong. There’s been-“

Scott’s jaw nearly dropped. “Are you out of your bloody fucking mind?” he nearly shouted. “I’m not getting within 100 klicks of my goddamn brother let alone you, you fucking lunatic.”

Stacker’s jaw clenched. “Is this your answer to my request?”

“Too goddamn right it is,” Scott stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stacker’s mouth twitched upward at the corner for a brief second before making a few quick keystrokes.

A very strained minute later Scott’s monitor filled with four documents that he clicked on with increasing horror.

Page 1. Medical form signing off and clearing him to return to duty  
Page 2. An itinerary from the Sydney Shatterdome to Hong Kong’s  
Page 3. Orders for a Ranger Scott Hansen to report to the Sydney Shatterdome to catch the transport already enroute to transfer him and, almighty Christ  
Page 4. Full reinstatement and return to duty for Ranger Scott Hansen and all privileges and honors accorded to the rank therein

“What the hell is this?” Scott asked, his voice shaking with rage.

“It’s no longer a request. You are required to come to Hong Kong. It’s an order.”

“You can’t do that! I was dishonorably discharged. You can’t just make me a Ranger again you stupid fuck! And I thought the PPDC was gone.”

Stacker shrugged. “It’s gone…and it’s not. And that never happened to you officially. I can’t seem to find any record of it in any files hardcopy, digital, or in living memory. So it seems I can do whatever I goddamn want Scotty. It’s the end of the world. Pack your kit and get to the ‘dome.”

“And if I don’t?”

Stacker’s smile was all teeth. “Try me.”

Scott stared at Stacker, both of them painfully aware of just how much this war had cost them in terms of respect and friendship.

“You always were the bigger arsehole, Stacks.”

“Someone had to keep you Hansens in line.”

“Yeah, well that was really Angel’s talent now, wasn’t it?” 

With that parting shot, Scott relished the flinch on his “commander’s” face as he ended the vid call.

Fuck his life. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And if he happened to walk a little straighter, a little taller, when he re-entered the Sydney Shatterdome this time he absolutely refused to think about it. Nothing had changed. 

Not really.

**

Scott was grateful for the dreary, drizzly day when he arrived at the Hong Kong Shatterdome. It tended to keep the number of personnel to an absolute minimum on the tarmac and he really didn’t feel like everyone knowing he was here just yet.

He slid open the side door of the chopper as soon as the wheels touched and tossed his duffle onto the wet pavement before hopping out. He flipped up the collar on his navy blue fatigues jacket in a poor attempt to keep the drizzle from going down his neck and reached down to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder.

“Ranger Hansen.”

Scott arched a brow at the nattily dressed man in front of him holding a large black umbrella, surprised that he still managed to dress fashionably here, at the eleventh hour. “Mr. Choi,” he returned, taking a cue from the formal address.

Tendo Choi grinned, popped open the other umbrella and handed it to him. “Follow me please.”

Scott took the umbrella and nodded his head but didn’t return the easy grin like he once would have.

**

“You’re shitting me, mate.”

Tendo and Scott had turned down the pilots’ wing quarters and stopped in front of what would be the door to Scott’s room. It happened to be across from his brother’s and nephew’s as indicated by the nameplates on the doors.

Tendo shrugged. “This is where the Marshal assigned you. Said if you were going to kill each other might as well keep it in the family wing. Less noise. Less mess. You’re the only ones in this whole section anyway.”

Scott couldn’t take his eyes off the doors, wondering if even now they were behind them, possibly watching him through the peephole, but no. Surely he would have heard Max, right? 

“They’re not there,” a deep voice said on his right.

Scott turned and there was Stacker, dressed sharp and crisp in his Marshal’s uniform. You’d never guess the man was slowly dying of radiation exposure from the Mark 1’s. 

Stupid, fucked up, government politicians, contractors, the lot of them.

As if radiation poisoning was an unknown quantity. As if shielding was something they couldn’t have planned for. As if installing safety measures and upgrading wasn’t something that could have still been added aftermarket; goddamn fuckers sitting safe on the Atlantic caring more about money than…

Scott made a non-committal noise as he stepped into his new home, dropping the duffel by the desk on his right. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stacker dismiss Tendo and then enter the room and quietly close the hatch.

Scott turned around and stared Stacker in the eye. He started to open his mouth but Pentecost held up a hand to forestall him.

“New information came to light, came to me, two days ago. This information is over ten years old. However it’s believed that it could have made a crucial difference in the lives of several Rangers and their performances in battle.” Stacker paused and took a slow inhale, held it, and let it out just as slowly. “With the final run coming in a few days I need everyone in top shape and I need you to review this information and get your evaluation. You’re familiar with this world but haven’t been neck deep in it the last few years. Maybe you can give some insight.”

Stacker set a memory stick on the desk. “Soonest would be best. It’s why Herc called you. He couldn’t review the information anymore. It’s also why you’re reviewing it in your quarters. Call me when you’re done. The number’s on the desk.”

With those cryptic words Marshal Pentecost backed off and left the room.

Scott took off his jacket and draped it over the desk chair to dry. The standard PPDC laptop and tablet were sitting there on the desk awaiting his initial login to the system. He stood there, punch drunk, exhausted, and debated whether he should review this all important information now or after a one hour nap.

Sure Stacker had said soonest but the man was always in a rush. Honestly Scott didn’t think he could provide any sort of decent analysis if he didn’t get some rest after working non-stop, the recall to duty, and then the flight here.

Stacker could suck it.

He unlaced his boots and kicked them off before collapsing on the bed. Scott was out, like the good soldier he’d trained to be, before his third breath. 

**

Scott woke up on his stomach, left arm dragging on the floor, drool drying on his cheek, the pillow barely damp. He’d slept hard for two hours judging by the time on the wall monitor/tv. He felt awful. Heavy, disconnected, uncoordinated, as he sat up slowly, and ran a hand over his head.

Surprisingly the room wasn’t completely dark which he expected as he hadn’t turned on any lights before falling asleep. He also hadn’t expected to see a tray of food sitting on the desk either. Two sandwiches, an apple, banana, cookie, water bottle, and juice box. 

How had he not heard someone coming into his room? This was bad news. He was more exhausted and out of practice than he thought. At one time it hadn’t mattered how little sleep he’d received, he was ready and alert at the slightest sound out of the ordinary.

Shit. This didn’t bode well.

Scott wandered into the bathroom and splashed water on his face to try and wake up. He opted for the tablet, grabbed the memory stick and propped himself up in the bed with the pillow against the metal headboard. There was no reason he couldn’t make himself comfortable, he thought as he set up his login and accessed the memory stick. 

He yawned hugely and scratched absently at his stomach when -

What. The. Fuck.

Scott bolted upright in bed and stared at the golden words that had appeared on the screen.

\--05/09/2014 – 14:21:04  
\--RAAF Base – Richmond  
\--RB – Richmond - Pilots Emergency Message Line  
\--RB-R-PEML - Squadron 115  
\--RB-R-PEML - SQ 115 – Pilot #022 - 2Lt. Scott Hansen  
\--RB-R-PEML- SQ 115- P#022 – Messages Received – 1

**Play Message: Y/N?

No.

Absolutely not.

Scott had no desire to play a message that was left on that absolute clusterfuck of a day. He can recall everything. The tremble in his hands due to exhaustion and too much coffee, the smell of gasoline, burning rubber, distant sirens, the taste of rubbery eggs and too dry toast…

The sound of his bootheel connecting with a man’s cheekbone because he wouldn’t get off the rails of the chopper so Scott could ascend with what evacuees he had.

No. He did not want to play a message from the final day of battle with Scissure.

He couldn’t begin to imagine who would have left him a message. It sure as hell wasn’t his parents because they had made their feelings quite clear when he’d left home to follow in his big brother’s footsteps. 

It most definitely wasn’t Herc. He’d been flying a chopper as well.

Shit. It would just be his luck to find out he’d knocked some girl up and she’d somehow found the courage to tell him he was the dad. Oh fuck. That’d mean the kid was, huh, eleven? Twelve now? Older?

Fuck. Poor kid. Stuck with the shitty Hansen. Well, they were all _right shits_ , to be sure, but Scott was definitely the bottom of the barrel.

**\--05/09/2014 – 14:21:04**

The date wasn’t getting any easier to look at. The time. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was like less than ten minutes before the nuke went off.

****Play Message: Y/N?**

Scott pressed “Y”.

A moment later Angela Hansen’s dirty, sweaty, pain-filled face filled the screen.

Scott dropped the tablet. Then he heard her. **“Scotty. Hey there. Well-“**

Scott hit the pause button and flung the tablet on the floor as if it bit him.

No. He didn’t want to hear this message.

He stared at the tablet, hands beginning to tremble, eyes burning from not blinking.

He watched it as if it might suddenly turn on by itself and Angela would come crawling out of the screen to…to…

To what?

Tear him to shreds for what he’d done to Herc? For not being a good role model for his nephew? To scream at him?

To look at him with that disconcerting gaze of hers? That hyper focused green-eyed gaze that Charlie had inherited? The one that saw straight to his soul?

The tablet stayed put. Angela stayed silent.

Scott’s trembling increased.

His eyes continued to burn.

**  
Scott remembered…

\\\ Angela had been dragged along to go drinking with the squadron two weeks before they were being deployed. Herc had been wanting to introduce her to the boys for weeks and she’d finally relented.

Earlier, Scott had given her a massive guilt trip. 

She had asked Scott how he was able to sleep at night.

He said he was a soldier. Guilt trips hardly rated. Two seconds and he was out.

So now they were at the officer’s club. She’d been properly introduced but the squad had left the four of them alone bar while they had retreated to the corner of the bar decorated with their seal and motto. Plenty of other soldiers were there that Saturday night as well, some with girlfriends, wives, boyfriends, or husbands, living it up.

Scott had a pleasant buzz going on but Stacker looked a bit pissed, and Herc looked downright “shitfaced” as Angela would put it. God he loved her way with words.

Herc had found a real treasure.

Stacker had laughed uproariously and insisted that Scott leave his former colonist alone. 

Herc had stood behind Angela, who was perched on the wooden barstool. He gathered her in his arms and, smiling, kissed her neck. “I think your American accent is sexy and it was you who lured this stupid Aussie in. That’s my story.” 

Then he leaned over the bar and took one of the tiny drink umbrellas from behind it. He opened the umbrella and wedged it in her hair on top of her ponytail. 

“What the hell are you doing Hercules?” she asked with narrowed eyes. 

He leaned in, hands on her shoulders and drunkenly attempted to whisper, “It’s a flag. Well…I didn’t bring a flag so I improvised. With the umbrella. I’m a descendent of a people with imperialism in their blood and well, I brought a flag.” Herc nodded and kissed her cheek before looking at his brother and best friend who all nodded in agreement at this sage drunken wisdom. 

“Oh absolutely, Herc,” Scott said with a grin. “OI! Listen up!” Scott yelled to the patrons. Lieutenant Hercules Hansen HAS BROUGHT A FLAG!” 

And Stacker had spun a grinning Angela around and pointed to the umbrella in her hair.

The rest of the bar roared in approval, his squad mates standing up and raising a glass, whistling and cheering the loudest. 

“Scotty,” she’d shouted, laughing. “Enough!” 

Scott had laughed. “Oh no, Angel, you don’t get it.” Scott reached out a hand and tugged her off the barstool. He threw an arm around Angela’s shoulders and pulled her a few feet away. Herc hardly noticed as people were coming up and patting him on the shoulder and shaking his hand.

“Look at me. Look in my eyes. Are you drunk? No? Good. Look at him.” He turned her gently and kept his hands on her shoulders. “Do you see how many men are coming up to speak with him now that you’re not there? Notice how big his smile is? How he keeps looking at you? Really look at him.” 

Scott touches the paper umbrella when Herc makes eye contact with Angela again. Angela jolts at the way Herc’s expression softens and then he’s joining the conversation again. “Angel, he’s not hooking up with you. He’s not noticing an age gap. He’s not waiting for something better to come along. Everyone here has known it but you.” //

**

This is why Herc called him; needed to talk face to face.

It was why he couldn’t finish.

But it didn’t explain why Stacker would reinstate him as a pilot.

Scott’s eyes slid unwillingly to the tablet and locked onto it. He knew the answer was on that flashdrive.

Answers. Heartache. Angela. Herc. His past, his choices. Angel. Charlie. Answers.

Hansens.

Hope.

His hands stopped trembling.

He retrieved the tablet and started the message from the beginning.

Angela Hansen. Angel. She was clearly in pain but struggling to speak quickly. She didn’t look good and he realized instantly that even if Herc had reached her, even if he, Scott, had gone AWOL himself for Angel it would have been pointless.

She was fatally injured.

An important fact the Hansens could have used ten years ago. Ten, anguish, guilt-ridden, blame-filled, bitter years ago.

Might have made a difference.

She spoke, earnestly, still trying to smile encouragingly.

He fucking hated her for it.

He fucking loved her for it.

_**Scotty. Hey there. Well. As you can see...but...I've always got time to talk on the phone, right? I've gotta make it quick though. I'm very popular these days.**_

Angela's sad smile slips and she winces and holds her breath for a moment. She looks back into the camera.

_**You’ve been the best brother-in-law a girl could ever ask for. I know you don’t think so but you have. You are. You’re an incredible uncle. The bestest. Charlie absolutely adores you, you know. I think Herc gets jealous sometimes. And Herc, well, you know he loves you more than anything too, right?**_

_**I know he doesn’t say it, and it seems like he’s always yelling at you so it must mean that he hates you. Like…like your dad? But that’s so far from the truth. Herc isn’t your dad. He’s your brother. We talked about this, remember?**_

Angela paused again and closed her eyes, trying to breathe evenly. She cried softly, and when she brought up her hand to scrub away the tears she left powder gray concrete dust on her face.

_**You and I know your…mistakes are your own. But please understand that Herc’s always gonna feel like they’re his. It’s because he loves you so much. And…because he’s afraid he’ll become your dad. Like you’re afraid you are your dad.**_

She sniffled and tried to laugh but it came out a little choked.

_**Christ, Scotty, you became one of the top pilots when you were barely out of high school. You’re ridiculously smart, just like your brother. And your nephew’s just like you. You fucking Hansen’s are all so sexy, and cool, and stupidly hot, and charming, and smart and freakishly perfect…I don’t even know how I ended up in your family. I think you’re right. You needed to import some new genes. Get some of the stupid back in there so you can still pass yourselves off as mortals among us.**_

Scott shocked himself as he burst into laughter through the tears coming down his face. He remembered how sullen she’d been that day at the beach watching Herc, Charlie, and himself playing in the surf and all the female attention they received. 

How the women in the bikinis would thrust their chests out or cock a hip or try the other approach and coo over five-year old Charlie. It had nothing to do with Angela thinking that Herc would stray. It had everything to do with Angela wondering how an extraordinary man like Herc, who was seven years younger than her, and could have anyone he chose with a lift of his brow had settled for her.

And Angela truly meant the word settled.

Even after years of marriage she was still afraid to let Herc know some of her real thoughts and fears as if he might wake up one day, look at her and realize that he had made a mistake. So she confided in Scott. 

In return Scott opened up and had someone to talk to for the first time in his life. Someone who wanted absolutely nothing from him; not a good time, or marriage, to be an ideal. He didn’t have to compete with her or be tough for her.

Scott had an honest to god friend. A best friend.

Angela told Scott her problem while they stood in line for shaved ices for everyone. He’d looked into her eyes and seen how fragile she was at the moment and he was at a loss. His Angel was a resilient woman. She had fears but nothing like this. Nothing that caused her to look so utterly wounded.

He glanced back to the beach where she was looking and saw three uni-aged girls doing their best to flirt with Herc. Charlie had plopped behind his father’s legs and was concentrating on scooping sand and burying Herc’s feet. He was up to the ankles. Herc had a polite smile but he kept glancing down to look at Charlie and would then glance around to most likely look for them.

How Angel could possibly think that his brother wasn’t hopelessly, madly, deeply in love with her was a complete mystery. Herc honestly could barely take his eyes off of her or his hands. His brother was so disgustingly happy with his family that Scott would honestly resent him if Angel and Herc and Charlie didn’t love him so much and include him in everything.

So he had sighed and reassured her that Herc had only married her because she was stupid and it was only out of obligation to the genetic needs of the Hansen family line. If he hadn’t introduced some of the plain looks and low IQ genes found in her then pretty soon the Hansens were going to look like gods. I mean really. Has she taken a look at him lately? A god. Herself? Sad American. Only reason for it. Otherwise Herc would have married an Aussie like a good boy.

Angela had looked at him, eyes wide with unshed tears and Scott had been terrified that he’d gone too far.

Then she’d burst into the brightest peals of laughter and couldn’t stop. She couldn’t catch her breath. Every time she glanced up at Scott she would mutter something like “genetics” and start over again.

Scott had to ask for a special cone tray after she’d dropped one because she couldn’t stop laughing.

After that all Scott had to do was raise an eyebrow and slide his eyes from Herc to Charlie and tap his ring finger and she’d start choking with laughter. He had especially liked bringing it out at inappropriate moments to diffuse tension.

_**You’re a good man Scotty. You’re not like your dad. Remember that. I believe that. You’re strong. You’ve got Herc. And you’ve got Chuck. You’re stronger than you think. You have always kept their spirits up. You’ve always done it for me as well.**_

_**I need you to do that for them now too. It’s not fair for you but this is your burden, okay? This is what you have to do for your family. You keep their spirits up. You keep your smile. You keep your humor.**_

_**You do that. You do that for me, ok?**_

_**You’re strong. You’re not your father. You are not your mistakes. We all make mistakes but family forgives, family understands, and family helps you move on. You matter to your family. WE are your family. Only us. ,**_

_**I love you. Charlie loves you. Herc has and will always love you. No matter what.**_

_**You’re strong Scotty. You’re a good man. You watch over Charlie and Herc for me now.**_

_**I’ll watch over the three of you.**_

_**Please Scotty. Please don’t forget. Please.**_

Angela. Angel has tears streaming down her face cutting clean tracks through the gray dust on her cheeks. She kisses her fingers and tries for a smile as she touches them to the camera lens.

The recording stopped.

Scott’s heart pounded in his chest. He tried to breathe but it got caught on a choked sob in his throat. He tried again but tears streamed down his cheeks. 

He rolled over slowly onto his knees, tablet clutched tight to his stomach, forehead buried on the bed. He curled up tight, rocking back and forth as he made gasping noises, snot pouring down the back of his throat, out of his nose, as his lips formed the word “Angel” over and over again.

Sometimes interspersed with “I’m so sorry.”

Occasionally…”I fucked up.”

The door to his room flew open, the metal clanged loudly against the inside wall and rebounded against the man who caught it. He stood inside the room, feet apart, and panted as if he’d sprinted like all of hell had been after him.

Herc walked slowly to his brother and hesitated before sitting on the bed next to him. Scott curled himself up impossibly tighter at the weight change on the bed.

“Scott,” Herc rasped.

Scott didn’t respond.

Herc raised his right hand and gently combed it through Scott’s hair. “Scotty,” he said softly, his wide warm palm pausing at the back of Scott’s skull like he used to when he was giving him comfort when he was little. “Scotty.”

Scott let out a loud anguished wail as he uncurled himself and wrapped his arms around Herc’s waist, burying his face in his brother’s henley.

Herc shut his eyes in matching pain, tears falling. He held his brother close and kissed the top of his head, his hands running over his back in an effort to soothe him.

Neither brother noticed Chuck standing on the top step watching them with unreadable eyes. He’d been right on his father’s heels when Herc had sprinted out of LOCCENT and was absolutely shocked by the images and emotions he was catching through the ghost drift with his father. They made no sense.

Until the door was opened.

Chuck wasn’t sure what to make of it. He only knew that he didn’t need to be there. 

He didn’t _want_ to be there.

He reached out and quietly shut the hatch.

Walking back to LOCCENT a sense of dread began to curl inside of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will try and be faster with the next chapters. Comments are always welcome. The more specific the more helpful (concrit). Most important, again, thanks for taking the time to read. And yes you can visit on tumblr, same name. Not sure how exciting. (and shameless plug here to ask me about Shatterdome Con. #shatterdome con @shatterdomecon www.shatterdomecon.com - - Pacific Rim and multi-fandom con 11/7-9/2014)

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at titles. It could have been "Chapter One".


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